The Picture On The Locker Door
by 27dayz
Summary: Catherine's motherly insticts come out as she helps Greg as he struggles to deal with Sara's abrupt departure.


AN: I have another Catherine-friendship fic. It may be a bit of a tear-jerker.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

**The Picture On The Locker Door**

"Have a good night, Greg," Grissom said as he passed the spiky-haired CSI. Greg glowered at him.

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, turning into the locker room. He wrenched his locker open so hard that it banged on the locker next to his. Pictures were jarred loose from their magnets at the collision and scattered on the floor. Greg mumbled some choice words under his breath as he knelt down to pick up his photographs.

"What's eating you?" a familiar voice asked from the doorway. He didn't need to turn around to know that the feminine voice belonged to Catherine Willows.

"Nothing," he replied a little more forcefully that he intended. Catherine raised her eyebrows and took a step inside the locker room and knelt down to help him pick up the pictures.

"Sure doesn't sound like nothing, Greg," she told him. He didn't say a word. Catherine remained silent as well, knowing that if he wanted to talk, Greg would talk. Instead, she busied herself by fishing a photograph out from underneath the bench. It was a picture of Greg and an all-to-familiar brunette, Sara Sidle. It was a good picture of the two, Catherine observed. It looked like Greg was reaching out to the camera, but on second thought, she realized that he had taken the picture of the two of them himself. They were sitting on the couch in the break room with their faces touching. Both of them were smiling. Catherine hadn't seen Sara smile like that for a long time. It was a smile that reached her eyes.

"This is a good picture of you two," she commented, holding it out to him. Something in his already sullen behaviour changed as he surveyed the picture she was talking about.

"It was taken before she transferred to swing shift," Greg said shortly, taking the picture and adding it to the pile in his hands. He quickly turned away and fumbled with the magnets, but Catherine had seen the anguish on his face when he took the picture from her.

"Greg, honey, are you okay?" she asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrug it off, which Catherine took as a good sign. Then he spoke.

"Why did she have to go?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Sweetie, she was burning out. You know that she needed to get out of here before the job destroyed her," Catherine reminded him as gently as she could. He bobbed his head, but he still wouldn't look at her, even as she gently rubbed his back. She had a strong suspicion that there were tears streaming down his face.

"Grissom's fault," he choked out, as if he were expelling bile from his mouth. Now Catherine was really shocked. Never, not once, had she heard the younger CSI speak ill of his mentor. And this wasn't even true.

"Greg, it wasn't anybody's fault. Even before she was kidnapped, the job was starting to get to her and-"

"It was his fault!" Greg cried, whirling around to face her, almost knocking her over as he revealed the pain and tears on his face, "Don't tell me it wasn't! He should have noticed! He should have saw that something wasn't right with her, especially after she was kidnapped! She chose him and he couldn't even see what was best for her! She chose him and he couldn't see and he neglected her and he drove her away!" he shouted, breaking down and succumbing to his grief and suffering. Despite the fact that she disagreed with Greg and maintained that it wasn't anybody's fault that Sara had left, Catherine moved towards him and brought him to her in a motherly embrace. He sobbed against her, losing all self control. He could barely breathe. He was trembling. He felt his knees give way.

"Shh, Greg. It'll all be okay," Catherine whispered, allowing herself to be slowly lowered to the floor as Greg curled into a ball beside his lockers, the pictures forgotten. She sat there with him, holding him close as he cried. After a minute or two, he made a sound.

"She didn't even say goodbye," he whimpered, leaning his head on her shoulder, "I-I was her best- and she didn't-"

"Maybe she thought that saying goodbye would be too hard, Greg. Maybe she didn't want to say goodbye to you because it would hurt too much," Catherine suggested, trying to give him something so that he could emphasize with their former co-worker.

"This hurts more," Greg sobbed, "She doesn't even care. She cared about- about Grissom. Not me. He got a letter. Where's my letter?" he asked, his face still screwed in pain.

"Greg, I know that she cares-"

"Right," he spat bitterly, "She cares like Grissom cares about you."

Now that one hurt. As of late, her former best friend didn't seem to care about anyone. She thought she was the only one who had noticed, so she kept it to herself. Greg was apparently a better CSI than she had given him credit for.

"Greg…Grissom…he's a victim too-"

"That doesn't give him an excuse to treat his best friends like shit," Greg said acidly, "You and he used to be tight. Now you two barely say two words to each other."

"Both Grissom and I are to blame for that, Greg-"

"No," Greg said stubbornly, "Both you and I got screwed over when they got together. I could deal with it, as long as she was still talking to me and spending time with me. Just being around her was enough to offset the whole she-was-with-Grissom thing. As long as we were still friends, I thought I could deal with it. Now I don't even have that."

"You loved her, Greg," Catherine stated, understanding the feeling. She had felt it when she and Grissom had stopped having breakfast together, when he became to busy for his friends, when they had lost the closeness that they had when she had wished him good luck at the hospital.

"Like you loved Grissom," Greg confirmed. They sat together on the locker room floor staring into space, understanding the anguish that the other was feeling, whether the anguish was evident of not. They understood that they both loved someone so much that it hurt. Recognizing this similar affliction strengthened their bond, for they both came to the conclusion that no matter how much that unrequited love hurt them, they would always have the other to lean on.

As they sat together, Greg gently lifted his head from her should, giving her time to move her head which had been resting on top of his, and he reached back into his locker and pulled out a camera.

"Smile?" he asked her, pleading with her.

"Greg, I'm a mess," she protested.

"You look pretty good to me," he replied, causing Catherine to smile softly. He held the camera away from them and snapped the picture of the two of them sitting with their backs to the lockers.

A week later, there was a new picture hanging on Greg's locker door. He and Catherine had their arms draped over each other's shoulders and they both had similar, content smiles on their faces. If someone looked really closely at the picture, they would have seen tear lines on Greg's cheeks and tears falling down Catherine's.

"Nice picture," Catherine commented as she grabbed her coat from her locker one day.

"I think so too," Greg told her. Then he hesitated before he spoke again, "You won't leave me too Cath?" he asked, unsure of himself. He needed reassurance. She smiled at him.

"Nah, your stuck with me for a long time, Sanders, so get used to it," she assured him, winking at him, "Now, are you coming? We're going to be late getting to the scene."

"Right behind you," Greg said, beaming at his new best friend. He shut his locker, being especially careful to ensure that the picture on the door did not fall.

The End


End file.
